Like a Nailbat to the head
by BlackCypress
Summary: Foul language, Minor violence. Rating will likely change once story is continued. Fic featuring Cid Highwind. Not much more to be said.
1. After the end.

Disclaimer: All Characters within FF7, FF7 itself, and items blah blah blah, Owned by Squaresoft and respective companies. This is simply a fan fiction, using their characters in my own personal understandings and portrayal of their characters that was left un-mentioned or un-detailed within the game, blah blah blah, please don't steal my work or something.

Authors Note: The main thing that inspired this fic was that I'm sick and tired of seeing FF7 characters being horribly abused by writers. I've seen many good people, but I've seen ten times as many bad people. And to date, the fic's on Cid Highwind are still on the low scale. Hell, Nanaki has more fic's than Cid, and I'm not talking just about the ones here on FFN. So, since I couldn't find one I was satisfied with, I'm writing one. Furthermore, I'm keeping as close to the game and as events I'd see to happening as I possibly can. I dislike the portrayals of Cloud Strife basically being a girl with a dick, as well as the populace in general apparently deciding Tifa, Aeris (while she was alive) and Yuffie to be sluts. I could go on with this, but I won't. Instead, I'm going to write a story. I'm going to enjoy doing it, and maybe some people will enjoy reading it. [[ On a side note; Yes, Reno does seem rather out of character in this chapter, but there's a reason for it, if I ever managed to get around to writing the second chapter ]].

P.S.: The title has nothing to do with the story, I just couldn't think of anything else.

**_Like a Nailbat to the head..._**

Cid Highwind sat in his kitchen, sipping a warm cup of tea Shera had left him, one hand resting on the table, over a note mentioning Shera's need of a short vacation. She'd gone off to visit some of her friends in Kalm and was going to be gone for at least two weeks. Frozen TV dinners stocked up in the freezer, and careful instructions on how to use the oven.   
As usual, he'd been spending his time tweaking the Tiny Bronco, and had the beginnings of a new plane developing in his mind. Tanned almost to the burning point from working under the cloudless blue sky, the man now simply sat and dreamed of the stars as he rested in his kitchen. Despite his eyes resting on the old, rusting heap of what was left of his rocket, his eyes were clouded, mind somewhere else.   
With the defeat of Sephiroth and saving the planet, ShinRa had gone down, and Midgar wasn't much more of a shell of its former 'glory'. Which also meant all of his funding was completely gone and never had any hope of being revived again. None of the current cities were pulling around as much weight and interest as Midgar and ShinRa had. Even if he spent the rest of his life raising money and rebuilding, he'd never see space again. He'd be too old by the time it was completed and the pressure from breaking the atmosphere alone would likely break his brittle bones of that late an age.   
His vision blurred a little and a lone tear found its way down his face. He wasn't the same man he used to be. Dreams crushed underfoot, he was living on the day to day basis now. Though he had no real desire to fall into the arms of the grim reaper, he didn't have as much to live for either. A sip of his tea and he thought about the others.   
They never really seemed to regard him as much. Just another able bodied man who had the means to easily travel the world. He was just a pilot to them, and that was all. Since the whole 'Save the Planet' thing had worked, he hadn't heard from a single one of them. Not that he particularly wanted to either. They just weren't his crowd.   
The occasional news that had sifted in to him by way of traveling merchant or the occasional sightseer, led him to believe they were all trying to settle back down to normal lives. Rumors of Cloud living in the City of Ancients could never be confirmed, what with people getting lost in the sleeping forest all the time. Tifa had gone off to Wu-Tai to help Yuffie with her town, treat her some manners, and bartend in Turtle Paradise. Barret had made peace with the miners and they were rebuilding their city. Nanaki was back in Cosmo Canyon, teaching the ways of the planet in his late grandfather's wake. Vincent and his coffin disappeared, and his name was slowly being forgotten. Cait Sith, or at least the robot and toy, was now in Dio's museum, the Golden Saucer still doing quite well despite the supposed poverty of the world.   
When asked what he was doing with his life, he'd always simply shrugged, never really having anything to say. The people of Rocket Town had remained, many of them like himself, without anywhere else to go, slowly developing families since all the projects had been canceled from lack of funding. Some of them still looked up to him as The Captain, and looked to him for answers. Some of them didn't even know who he was, just that he was 'that old guy in that house over there.'   
Once he realized he'd never see the blackness of space and the beautiful constant burn of the stars outside his world, his hair had started to silver, and he'd become somewhat listless whenever anyone spoke of any movements towards a fresh space program. He encouraged others in his place, of course. Ministering to the younger intellectuals about what he'd learned, but as of yet, none of them had ever panned out, and he was losing hope even in that.   
But he still had his planes. He'd thought about rebuilding the Highwind, but there wasn't any purpose for it really, with ShinRa dead. The Tiny Bronco, built with his own two hands, functioned perfectly under his hands, and shuddered, sputtered and spat, under anyone else's. He'd started to build a second and third, purely out of the need for something to do, and from his passion for mechanics, the feel of wind whipping through his hair that no other land based vehicle could provide, and the sense of freedom he had when away from the town. Away from the threat of people interfering his thoughts, away from the annoyance of the still present monsters. Just... Away.   
Once the cup was empty, he continued to dream as he put the note on a shelf and headed back outside, glancing over the Bronco for a moment, then proceeding to look at the other two half built machines. They were nameless for the moment. One built for speedy travel, the other, barely motorized. As much as he loved machines, he'd begun to become curious about simple gliding and maneuvers one could achieve without the power of a combustible engine.   
Reaching out, he almost lovingly stroked his hand over the glider's frame, thinking about where he would take it when it was finished. Maybe from the heights in Cosmo Canyon. Considering the topography around there and the weather, he could probably catch many heat updrafts and glide for hours, experimenting and learning. He smiled softly to himself, just before his thoughts were completely shattered by a yell.   
"Captain! Captain, we have a situation!"   
Cid's brows furrowed and he grit his teeth, disliking the interruption. He picked up a wrench from beside one of the half completed planes and turned, glaring at the middle aged man that ran up to him, huffing and panting, as well as stopping just outside of Cid's reach. He had a bit of a reputation after all. "What?!" was his sharp, and normally angry retort that he was so well known for.   
The middle aged man stopped, hesitating, then continued. "Captain, There's, Ah, an unwanted guest in the Inn, and he's refusing to leave. He seems to be intoxicated and he's making threats on the lives of anyone who gets close to him. Please do something!"   
Cid grunted slightly and shook his head, flicking the wrench around his finger, then 'holstering' it in his tool belt He waved the man off and stepped towards, and through the house, picking up his javelin along the way. No materia was equipped in it besides restore. Once in a while he'd fight monsters away from the town, but it was too easy, even without materia, to be much of a hassle any more.   
Grabbing a lighter on the way out, he pulled a cigarette from the pack in one of his flight jacket pockets and lit it as he walked down the main and only street, heading for the building that barely qualified as an inn. There were a few worried looking people near the front of the building, who looked up as he approached and parted for him, allowing him full access to the doorway, followed by some space. More than was necessary for a an average drunk. He rose one brow at them as he placed his hand on the doorknob, and pushed the slightly ajar door all the way open. The sight that greeted him was amusing to say the least. 

Reno of the Turks sat at a small table in the Inns 'common room', demanding in a slurred tone for another drink, having firm grasp of both the innkeeper's wrists, and holding a small dagger close to his neck. In his intoxicated state, he didn't seem to realize he wasn't getting more drinks because he was unwilling to let the Innkeeper go, no other staff being visible.   
The Turk had apparently lost his mind, as he was wearing a bright rainbow colored tie-dye shirt and soft blue shorts, flip-flop sandals, and a lone black shoulder holster, holding his gun. Cid didn't see a place where the dagger would be sheathed, nor did it really infringe on his thoughts either. He simply walked in, letting smoke from an exhaled breath proceed him, taking his lance in both hands, and smacked the flat of the spearhead down on the Turks head.   
There was no struggle, no fight, just a shocked little squeek, and Reno collapsed, crumpling under the surprise attack, listing sideways, and falling to the floor in a heap. The innkeeper's wrists had been released just after the blow, and the woman now scurried out of the room as fast as she could, into the awaiting arms of those outside.   
Cid crouched next to Reno, shaking his head and tisking softly. "Damned idiot. What the fuck are you doing here, of all places. Looking like that.." He spoke to the unconscious Turk. He rubbed his chin, regarding the bright red haired man, musing over previous meetings he'd had with the younger man.   
The sound of many footsteps behind him, and worried faces looked down at him. "Did you kill him?", "What's a Turk want from us?", "Should we lock him up or throw him out?" Those and many other questions assaulted his ears as he moved to check the growing lump on Reno's head, fairly sure he hadn't killed him, considering he was still breathing. He said nothing, remaining crouched there, patiently holding his javelin across his lap, waiting for them to run out of questions.   
When they finally finished, realizing he had a course of action clearly already in mind, they stood there, waiting to hear what the Captain had to say.   
"Get me some rope."


	2. The poor chair.

Disclaimer: All Characters within FF7, FF7 itself, and items blah blah blah, Owned by Squaresoft and respective companies. This is simply a fan fiction, using their characters in my own personal understandings and portrayal of their characters that was left un-mentioned or UN-detailed within the game, blah blah blah, please don't steal my work or something.

Authors Note: First of all, Parakeetfood, whoever the heck you are, thanks for the support. I didn't expect anyone to review until I had a few more chapters up, and, yes, I intend on pouring more out. Hopefully it wont suck too bad. For anyone who read the note in my last chapter, I still dislike seeing characters abused. Furthermore, writers who cant take criticism annoy me even more. I've been getting flames just for telling my honest opinion on someone else's FF7 story. If you cant take the VERY possible dislike of your particular writing style, then ya shouldn't put it where people can see it. Writing a story everyone will like is impossible, so stop bitching at me for it. Finally: Yes, there's going to be a chapter three for it. I'm just not precisely sure where this is going to go. Its more of a short story in my head, not a full blown epic novel or anything. My writing is just a hobby.

P.S.: The title still has nothing to do with the story, I still cant think of anything better, and truth be told, Nailbat has grown on me.

**_Like a Nailbat to the head..._**

The slightly slurred moan from Reno's mouth as he began to awake, with both a heavy hang over and a nasty lump on his head, alerted Cid who promptly poured another cup of tea and sit it on the table next to him. A bit of an amused smile on his face as he watched Reno struggle ineffectively before his eyes finally opened and he stared, uncomprehending, at the pilot. 

Cid 'The Captian' Highwind had taken charge over his small community as they got him the things he needed after the short attack in the Inn. They had cleaned up the slight mess the drunken Turk had caused, and gave Cid all he asked for. They didn't seem to completely care what Cid did to or with Reno, as long as he got him out of sight. Out of sight, out of mind.   
Now Reno, and his chair, was settled nicely in his kitchen, the soft, warm glow of oil burning lamps casting out the night's darkness to beyond the house's walls. The light scent of a sweet smelling tea filling the room along with something in the oven. Thin, white lines of smoke crept upwards from the ever burning glow of Cid's cigarette, curling and slowly vanishing the closer they got to the ceiling. The only sounds were crickets chirping outside, and the soft breathing of both respectable men.   
"Sugar, cream?"   
Reno continued staring at Cid. He didn't understand the question. The older man wondered if he'd hit him too hard, or just had far too much to drink. He wiggled his fingers, making sure the redhead was paying attention to them and pointed at the teacup in front of him and asked again.   
The Turk closed his eyes and sat there, shoulders slumped and head slightly hung. Followed by an almost violent jerking around, almost desperately trying to break or slip free of the bonds that kept him very securely tied to the chair. Cid watched this in amusement. He'd tied it all up himself, leaving only enough slack to let the blood continue flowing through his body. Followed by crossing his arms over his chest and guffawing in laughter as Reno managed to tip his chair over and slam down on his side on the floor. This trapped one of his arms under the chair and his own body wieght   
At the yelp of pain, the Captian calmly added a bit of sugar and cream to the second teacup. Only after stirring it, did he get up from his own chair, and pick Reno's up again. Setting it back at the table, he sat down again, picked up the teacup, and held it to Reno's lips.   
"Drink, stupid git. The more funny stuff you try and pull, the less likely I'm going to feed you."   
The redhead glared at him as he drank the tea. Not a word had slipped passed his lips, but he drank from the cup greedily. When finished, Cid poured and doctored another cup's worth and left it sitting there, taunting, in front of him. If he wanted any more, he'd have to ask for it.   
"Why didn't you kill me?" Reno's words broke the silence a few moments later, sharp as a knife, his eyes, though clouded with pain and the lingering effects of too much firewater, were studying Cid. Watching him like a predator calculating the weaknesses of it's prey. Under other circumstances, this might have scared Cid into action, but not today. Not anymore.   
"What are you doing in Rocket Town?" He countered casually. The space program may have been gone, but the name remained. No one else really had any other good ideas what to call it, and the world over probably wouldn't catch on, so the name stayed.   
"I asked first."   
"True, but I'm not the one tied to a chair, under his captors mercy."   
"... The Turks are dead. Answer my question."   
Cid smiled, stubbing out the end of his cig, and lighting up another one. "You just answered your own question, Reno."   
The redhead furrowed his brows slightly, a flash of confusion passing through his eyes. His head hung again as he tried to wrap his mind around it. In the days before, his mind would've made leaps and bounds, understanding each and every clue. But he was older now. His mind had slowed and rotted from so much booze and abuse. He still had his street smarts, but what use were they when he was without a goal in life. Without someone to compete against.   
Cid broke the silence and explained in more detail, seeing the redhead was having trouble with it. "It doesn't matter who you were anymore, Reno. Not to me anyway. ShinRa is dead and gone, and Midgar is nothing more than a monster filled garden. Crime has been at an all time low, the 'heros' have split apart and gone their own separate ways. We're just living right now. We're all recuperating from a disaster that our kids will only hear stories of. We all knew you were just following orders. Right from the beginning, everyone knew, from the whole thing at Wu-Tai. We were loyal to the planet, and you were loyal to ShinRa. As far as I see it, there's no point in feuding any more."   
"... So why am I still tied to a chair?" Hissed the redhead, clenching his teeth. The speech had struck a chord in him, a painful one.   
"Because my views aren't commonly shared. They would've gutted you alive once you were unconscious, had I left you to fend for yourself. And you still haven't answered my question."   
"Nor am I going to, what's my business is my business." He spat at his cool and calm captor. In the back of his mind, he knew he'd already lost, tied here in a chair and without his usual things to get him out. No friends or workmates to fall back on, no hidden knives to cut the ropes with. They'd been sold so he could buy more booze. He wasn't nearly as much of the man as he used to be. Why did he come here?   
"Oh? Well. I suppose I'm going to have to accept that. For now. Hungry? I haven't had a dinner guest since Barret dropped by with Marlene. She's shaping up to be quite the girl. Ofcourse, that was a long time ago." He chatted conversationally with his silent and boiling companion. Slipping out of his chair and fetching oven mitts so he could get the small lasagna that he'd cooked from the heat box.   
He cut the contents of the pan into nice, good sized servings and put a square of lasagna onto each plate, along with a bit of broccoli from the stove that he'd almost forgotten about. He set one plate in front of Reno and sat on the other end of the table with his own, fork in hand and began to eat. "Sow how has you're life been shaping up? Or is it the standard life of a booze hound?"   
"I have nothing to say to you." Replied the hard voice of the redhead, his head leaned back and slack, eyes closed.   
"Well, I suppose I'll just have to keep talking then." Cid smirked. He'd find out why Reno was here. Though the corporation Reno had been loyal to was now long gone, he knew the Turks had sought trouble both before and after the run with ShinRa. Even if the Turks were dead as Reno claimed, he doubted it was just a friendly visit. 

Some time later, Reno's lasagna having gone long cold and Cid on his third helping, still chatting away at his silent companion.. "Do you know the story behind my first airplane? No? Wellll, surprise surprise. Ahh, childhood. I'd better start from the beginning..."   
Cid grinned slightly from the resulting moan from the redhead. He was breaking. Slowly, but he was breaking. No one could stand up to his twisted tales of machinery and technology. Not without several years of study anyway. It was hard to stop for air at some times however. He was talking about his passion here, his life's work. Even if he knew it was probably making Reno's hung over mind even worse, and the large likelihood that he was going to bore him to death before getting what he wanted, he continued. It wasn't his fault that people didn't have the compassion towards machines that he did.


	3. Electric Spring!

Disclaimer: All Characters within FF7, FF7 itself, and items blah blah blah, Owned by Squaresoft and respective companies. This is simply a fan fiction, using their characters in my own personal understandings and portrayal of their characters that was left un-mentioned or UN-detailed within the game, blah blah blah, please don't steal my work or something. 

Authors Note: Amazingly enough, I'm getting positive feedback in a constructive manner. Surprising, amusing, and generally gratifying. No 'wow, this is cool!' and nothing else, and no flames. Quite an encouragement to continue indeed. Maybe I'll go get the messenger, because there's no reply button for open discussion on the reviews. Ha ha. Anyway. 

Quick answering to reviewers: The spelling and punctuation is likely off because I'm spell checking it in Dreamweaver 3, my HTML program. It catches a lot more mistakes than show up there. I do what I can, but I'm self taught and never really went to school, so you'll have to forgive me. I'm ever learning, after all. As for the OOCness of others writing; I'm not touching the topic. I've already stated I don't like how OOC people take some characters, or the PWP Lemons. Also on the OOCness... I'm having a really rough time keeping both of them in character. This story was, sadly, originally created to get the two of them in bed. It was requested by someone who shall remain unnamed. Since then, however, its taken a different turn. No big adventure for them, but I do have a different goal, of sorts. Wonder if I'll reach it. 

Princess Artemis: Can't read your work until I'm done writing this one. I haven't been reading anything at all, just playing the game off and on, so only the game itself will be any influence on my writing. It's done me pretty good so far, but I've been known to change my style whenever I read someone else's work. (Should've seen the stuff I wrote after reading Scarlet Fever's FF8 work.. Anyone else's characters are just kinda shallow and depressingly predictable now.) 

Has anyone noticed the plot holes yet? There's at least three. I plan on going back and altering them to fit correctly later. 

This has gotten way too long. On to the story! 

**_Like a Nailbat to the head..._**

"..- And at three thousand kilometers, the engine had started choking up on the altitude, and started to drop like a rock. Only seventeen at the time, I was sure I was dead, you know? At the same time, it had to be the most ultimate rush I'd ever experienced at the time. Not quite as dangerous as the barn catching fire, like I told you about earlier, but flying out over the ocean with no one realizing I had gone... Well, it wasn't all that attractive. Dropped almost half the distance before-"   
The sky outside was beginning to lighten as Cid stood over Reno, ice on the lump on his head, the almost listless eyes of his captive glaring at him. He'd managed to get three more cups of tea and a serving of lasagna into him, but he'd refused to let him sleep. He was positive Reno was going to go mad before he got his information. It almost made him feel bad. Almost, but not quite. It was actually just slightly elating. After all, how many every day pilots could snap a professional?   
Not to mention with the fourth cup of tea he was slowly pouring in to him, he'd have to empty that bladder of his sooner or later. He was a bit unsure if the man would wet himself rather than give up information. Looked like he was going to find out.   
"- And the engine had apparently run out of fuel, the monitor I'd set on it had been used to monitor car fuel levels, which, considering they're ground vehicles, always have a pretty steady fuel level. Not at all designed for planes with an engine that would move in any direction with the plane, resulting in the fuel being spread all around the tank. The monitor has shorted out, as I later found out. So there I was, twenty-five hundred feet up in the air over rock cliffs and out of gas.-"   
He could, un like other people he'd come across, think and talk of his experiences on separate levels. His voice, despite the herbal tea he had switched to several hours ago, was beginning to go horse, and Reno was blinking less and less.   
He paused again, during his retelling of his adventures with another test plane, Aurora V. Not five, just V, named after the first girl he'd ever had a crush on. The same girl who left him because he couldn't stop talking about flight. But that was another story unto itself. He was draining his teacup once more, when it reached his ears. A mere whisper, but it was definitely something. He lowered his cup and watched Reno's lips move, barely a breath passing them.   
"Eh? Say again?" He leaned a little closer, looking at him curiously. The fogged over eyes, his head still back against the back of the chair. But at his question, the lips sealed tight and he squeezed his eyes shut. Blast, something finally slipped from Reno, likely something he needed to know, and he'd missed it.   
But it meant he'd broken through. He hoped anyway. He forced out a jovial tone through his aching throat, reaching up and prying Reno's eyes open again.   
"Ah-Ah, didn't your mother ever tell you to look at a person who's talking to you? Pay attention, boy, you might learn something! Now. Where was I.. Oh dear, I seem to have lost my place. Guess I'll have to start all over from the beginning."   
Reno groaned softly and his expression weakened, another whisper slipping past his lips, beckoning Cid to come closer, and he would tell all. He complied, leaning closer to the obviously mentally ill man, tilting his ear towards his mouth and resting a hand on his shoulder. What could he do in this state?   
One thing, apparently.   
"SUCK COCK, YOU CRAZY FUCKING BASTARD!"   
Unlike Cid, Reno hadn't been doing any talking through the night, and had a perfectly functioning throat and vocal cords as he screamed into his captor's ear, his resolve and cold hard eyes cleared and ever defiant. There was nothing and no one that was going to steal from him what he was out to achieve.   
Cid stumbled back, holding his ear tightly, head ringing, and he snarled.   
"Insolent little whelp!"   
The back of Cid's fist slammed into Reno's cheek, knuckles biting into his sickly pale skin. Still wincing in pain from the yell, he caught the chair before it could fall again, as Reno had tried to escape again. He dragged the chair down onto its back and placed a boot hard against his chest, and a knee on the floor beside his head. "Tell me, god damn you!"   
"Eat shit and die, fucktard!" Reno hawked and spat a glob of phlegm up against his captors face. Woops, too much. It hit and came stringing back down onto his own face. He didn't even flinch, just let his grin speak for itself, before he was hit across the face again.   
"I hope you know, I don't usually hit women, but in your case, I'll make an exception!" He pulled back his fist, rubbing the knuckles a bit, and wiping his face off. The last blow had the redhead spitting blood from his lip.   
"I hope you crash into a mountain in that goddamned glider, impale yourself on the rocks, and have a long, drawn out death!" Reno yelled back at him, boozy mind latching onto some of the information it had been force fed through the night.   
"Fuck you!" Cid yelled, finding his fist in the Turk's face again, breaking the nose. He felt the bone slide and jolt upwards under his hand. He'd broken it and he was going to kill him with his own bone, by driving the thin bone spike up into his brain. What's better than a Turk at your door? A dead one.   
Reno was going to die. It struck him like a car hitting a chikobo. He screamed one word that he'd ever wanted on his dying lips. His goal, as it was apparently going to be unachieved forever.   
"REEVE!"   
And that was it. The searing pain remained a searing pain. It didn't decrease and it didn't rise. The bone stopped moving and the pressure to his face and chest was removed. Cid wandered over to the sink and washed off his hands, chuckling.   
"Figured that would work. No one to be loyal to other than yourself now. Those conditions of yours must have broken down under all that alcohol. Who's Reeve, hmm?" He spoke, a tone of triumph in his voice as he brought a wet, warm cloth back to his floored captive, up-righting him once more and wiping him down. He'd call the doctor in a few minutes. A broken nose left unattended was rarely a good thing.   
"Fuck! You fucking piece of shit! Fuck you! Fucking Fu- MPH!" Reno was unable to finish his sentence as he was effectively gagged by a damp towel practically being shoved down his throat. Cid grimaced slightly.   
"Well, now you have permission to shut the hell up. You can tell me later, after I have the doctor come and look at you. Now be a good boy," And Cid grinned at this, because he knew it was going to be impossible for him to do otherwise, "And don't go anywhere." And headed for the door, smiling with a warm feeling of satisfaction as he heard the muffled hells and screams of the man being left behind him. 

Yes, life was still too good to be so carelessly thrown away. If he'd ended it when he couldn't return to space, he never would've experienced this. The doctor was unsettled with actually diagnosing someone with such a reputation, but under Cid's stern glare, and holding of the very angry redhead, it was delt with fairly well. It'd take a few weeks before the bone structure healed again, but he'd be fine in the end.   
Provided he actually told Cid what he wanted to know. He'd made it very apparent to both of them that he may have to call the doctor back over the next few days, if something happened 'accidentally'. He got the doctor to look his bump over as well, and Reno's health in general. It wasn't a completely clean bill of health, but it was about as good as he expected. And to following the doctors orders, he finally allowed Reno to sleep. Still tied to the chair, but he gave him a break. Even moved him to a different room. On his back with a pillow under his head and hands. Not comfortable, but suitable. He'd plainly told Reno he wasn't going to let him go until he got all he wanted to know. 

He had a feeling the nest week was going to prove interesting.

(( Woops, this one is a little shorter than I intended it to be, but hey, its pretty good for one sitting! ))


End file.
